


you will never leave me as long as I inter you with my bones

by spirithouse



Category: GOT7
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, M/M, One Shot, Past Character Death, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithouse/pseuds/spirithouse
Summary: Unread texts were sent to Jinyoung’s phone, majority of them from Jackson, majority of them sayingI miss you already.





	you will never leave me as long as I inter you with my bones

**Author's Note:**

> please be mindful of the tags~  
> 

 

Jackson stopped taking taxis soon after Jinyoung died.

 

It wasn’t a major inconvenience--there were private drivers, subways, night buses--other modes of transportation that didn’t require him to be in the back of a speeding cab or on a vulnerable motorcycle. His heart still thumped erratically whether he was on a train or in a company’s car, but it never felt close to ripping in half.

 

It was one month since Jinyoung’s death and tonight Jackson took a detour from home. His dark clothes blended him into the city’s shadows, and his face mask prevented anyone from seeing how bitten his lips were, scarred with dried up blood. The cloudiness occupying his skull sat on the verge of a migraine, but if he kept his thoughts blank, focused on his task, he wouldn’t have to go out with a sore head.

 

(Not that it really mattered.)

 

It was late enough for the streets to be absent of crowds, closed stores scattered among the 24 hour restaurants and late night bars.  Jackson deliberately took the route where he was less likely to run into anyone, even though the silence made it easier to hear his haggard breathing, and now he couldn’t stop thinking of how him and Jinyoung always took deserted paths to their destinations. Jackson always said, “ _If you’re scared, Jinyoungie, just hold my hand_ ,” and Jinyoung would, not because he was nervous, but because that was Jackson’s way of saying he was anxious and wanted to be held.

 

The last time Jackson held Jinyoung’s hand, they were headed out to a restaurant because Jackson couldn’t sleep (he didn’t understand at the time why his mind was so troubled. Maybe it was a warning.), and Jinyoung was too hungry to sleep. But everything over food had felt normal: Jinyoung talked about the new role he was going to film in two days, and Jackson explained his plans to pop up in Hong Kong and surprise his mother for her birthday.

 

They kissed that night, said enough _I love yous_ to last a year, and the next evening Jinyoung decided to ride his motorcycle to their agency. Unread texts were sent to Jinyoung’s phone, majority of them from Jackson, majority of them saying _I miss you already_.

 

Jinyoung never answered and Jackson figured he was just busy.

 

In the morning, Jackson got a phone call telling him about the racing cab that ran a red light, crashed into Jinyoung who was on his motorcycle, and kept going. No one knew who the driver was. They knew Jinyoung’s helmet wasn’t enough to save him or keep his body from breaking.

 

††

 

Jackson appreciated the city’s efforts at preventing jumpers by installing a taller rail barrier, but it wasn’t enough to hold him back. Nor were the passive warm-hearted messages on the railings or the emergency phone booth near him. Despite the streetlights, the river looked deeper and darker than the dirty gap in Jackson’s chest. He breathed in too deeply, almost choked on a sob, and told himself to straighten up.  

 

He hadn’t cried in a week and he wasn’t going to start now, he wasn’t going to back out. Jackson Wang never gave up on things.

 

(He would never give up Jinyoung.)

 

He had one foot braced to push himself up and both hands to pull himself over when a person appeared beside him.

 

“Jackson, you promised me.”

 

Broken glass sounded in Jackson’s head as his composure shattered, and he had to let go of the railing, slowly turning to face the voice’s owner.

 

There were three places Jinyoung could be: inside an urn containing his ashes, in Jackson’s dreams and nightmares, and inside his and Jackson’s apartment because Jackson couldn’t touch Jinyoung’s stuff without breaking down.

 

And now Jinyoung was standing before him, no blood or trauma, breathing like normal, eyes smiling like he never left Jackson.

 

“Remember?” Jinyoung said. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt yourself.” And of course Jackson remembered, but that didn’t mean he wanted to follow it. He couldn’t remember what prompted the conversation, only that he said, without thinking, he wouldn’t be able to live if something happened to Jinyoung. Jackson may or may not had been joking,  he wasn’t certain, but Jinyoung held him and said, “ _If I die, promise me you won’t hurt yourself_.”

 

Jackson promised him because he hadn’t meant to make Jinyoung sad, and at the time, he still wasn’t sure if he was serious.

 

But now there he was, ready to toss himself over the bridge.

 

His vision wavered in and out, Jinyoung’s figure smudged, and he thought the other was fading away until he realized he was crying.

 

“You’re really here?” Jackson said, voice steady, not quite breaking yet. “Or am I dreaming?”

 

(“ _Is he really dead? Or am I dreaming?_ ”)

 

Anger briefly covered up the built-up sadness and Jackson wanted to lash out at Jinyoung. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” he spat back, wanting to hurt Jinyoung, but the rush of guilt was too strong. “You left me.”

 

Jackson had been very good about not crying, locking himself up, trying not to dwell too much on his decision to end everything. The tears finally broke down once Jinyoung grasped his hand, warm and solid and not dead. Too real.

 

And through everything, Jinyoung was still smiling, only a tinge of sorrow on his lips and words. “Please don’t be mad at me, Seunie. I’m sorry.”

 

“I miss you,” and no matter how much Jackson sobbed, his bones still felt too heavy for his skin, and his head ready to split open. “I can’t do this.”

 

He didn’t know what to say when Jinyoung never answered with _but you can, I need you to live for me, please don’t die because of me,_ but crowded his space and kissed him instead. It felt like just how it used to be, so hopeful, full of promises, and soft.

 

When Jinyoung leaned away, mouth rosy, he said, “I love you. I still love you. But you broke your promise, too.”

 

Jackson didn’t understand, because he didn’t get a chance to jump before Jinyoung’s spirit stopped him. He sniffled loudly, face wet and ugly, as he shook his head.

 

“I haven’t done anything yet. Aren’t you only here to stop me?”

 

Jinyoung’s eyes seemed shinier, wetter, but Jackson didn’t get to see him cry before Jinyoung looked over the railing.

 

Jackson caught a glimpse of someone dressed in all black, who looked similar to him, splash into the cold darkness. The river smoothed over as if it was never disturbed. The person never resurfaced.

 

Jackson breathed through the water flooding his lungs, and though his clothes were damp and frozen, he still felt warm. Jinyoung’s hand was still a warm reality in his.

 

††

 

Jinyoung’s voice sounded far away and close at the same time.

 

“I wanted to. But you couldn’t see me when you were alive.”

 


End file.
